European Stars and Stripes (Newspaper) - August 15, 1991, Darmstadt, Hesse                                A amps photos by Dave Didio i Shea Ign Europe Hemingway continued from Page 5 fierce winds. The rain continued most of the night but in the morning the sky had cleared and a fresh Breeze was blowing out of the Northwest. Like Hemingway and Jake stars and stripes photographer Dave Didio and i had travelled up to Burguete from the Plains. When we left Pamplona around noon on a monday it was so hot in the Plaza Castillo that the sweat ran Down my sides in mini Rivers. Outside the City no wind stirred the Grainfield and the ocher Hills were parched and Dusty. But As the Road climbed into the Foothills the Countryside changed. The Fields became Pale Green and a few wooded patches began to appear on the slopes. A Light breeze1 stirred the leaves on the Trees and the heat was not As intense. By the time we reached Burguete we were in a Region of forested hillsides and High Green mountains. After the heat and dust of the Plains it Felt like another country. The germans have a word for this Type of landscape Augen Weide. Roughly translated it Means a restful Meadow for the eyes. We set up the tent near the Urr Obi River a tranquil Cool flowing Stream that has been dammed to create a Small swimming area for the Campground. Climate geography and culture Combine to give the Western pyrenees their distinct identity. Because of the Region s nearness to the coast mists and Rains Roll in from the Atlantic and the Bay of Biscay to spill Over the mountaintops in great rolling Billows. The moisture and Cool breezes sustain the great Beech forests and feed the Trout streams. But their reach is limited. Twenty Miles East of the iraqi in the Roncal Valley the Countryside dries out. Beeches and Oaks yield to moisture conserving Black Pines. Instead of grass and Damp humus dry Brown Needles litter the Forest floor. The clean Well kept villages with their gleaming White houses Are in Sharp contrast to the Dusty Gray Stone towns of the Plains. The people of the Region mostly Basque Farmers and craftsmen Are Friendly relaxed and resolutely Independent. Strangers Are invariably greeted with a Quot Holay and a smile. Even the very old Are tanned and robust a result of lifetimes of exercise and outdoor living. One Day with hand gestures and miserable pocket dictionary Spanish i tried a conversation with three fishermen in arive. They were watching a Small Trout holding itself in the current among the weeds beneath the Road Bridge. One of the fishermen an old Man with rolled Down hip boots and no Teeth mimed the fluid casting motion of a Fly Rod to indicate the Best Way to fish the River. Upriver he motioned were Quot Muchas Truchas grander Many big Trout. Recently one had been caught that weighed a Dos Kilos 2 kilograms about 4vi pounds. Downriver he was not so sure about. The youngest of the group a dark haired Man about 40, shrugged his shoulders and made a Wavy motion with his hand extended two fishermen Wade into the iraqi South of Obara Spain in search of Trout. At right a Bridge in arive Spain offers a Good observation Point for the fish below. A Ltd. A Fly Fisherman dips his line into the River. Horizontally to indicate it was an iffy proposition. A half mile above the big curve in arive the iraqi emerges from its deep twisting Gorge to spill Down through a Broad gentle stretch that could have been Laid out with a transit. Here the River is a Lively Freestone Stream bubbling and splashing Over smooth worn rocks. Along the edges Brushy Willows overhang smooth flowing channels and a Little farther Back stately poplars Sway in the wind. The Stream Side Meadows Are alive with bees butterflies and Grasshoppers. My first iraqi Trout was a Surprise. I had spent the Early part of the Day fishing up from the old Bridge. All morning the air had been filled with a heavy Gray Mist that spilled Over the mountains on a Northwest wind and swept Down the Valley like a sea fog in an onshore blow. Though it was mid july i had become chilled standing in the cold water even with a windbreaker and Vest. For nearly three hours i had been doing Little More than practising cast and retrieve As i worked my Way up the Valley. Despite changing flies every 15 minutes i had not had a strike. Finally i put on a big old Gaudy Royal Coachman a Fly that has served me Well on Europe s Rivers. On the third or fourth cast a sprightly Little 8-Incher darted out from the Willows to smack the Fly As it floated past a couple of inches from the branches that trailed in the current. The Little fish splashed and tugged gamely but in a half minute was gulping air on its Side in the shallows its gleaming pastel spots Brilliant against the Gray White Sand. I quickly unhooked it and eased it Back into the water and it shot away downstream like a mini torpedo. I caught one More Little Trout before taking a break for lunch and heading upriver. There is a Fine paved Road that roughly parallels the iraqi winding up from arive through the Gorge into the mountains. On a Busy Day two cars an hour May pass Over it and in theory at least it provides Good Access to the River. The reality is another matter. In the Gorge the slopes Are in places so Steep and overgrown with Beech Walnut and Mountain Ash that it is nearly impossible to get Down to the River. Once you do get Down you May find it very difficult to get Back out when you Are done fishing. But swallowed up in the Gorge with the River surging 6 stripes Magazine August 15, 1991